


Before the Coronation

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Crying, Fucking Machines, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Object Insertion, Overstimulation, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Ritual Public Sex, Rope Bondage, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was well known throughout the land that a ruler who did not have the favor of the gods was not a ruler at all.  Kethren knew this well.  He had spent his entire life at court, but when his father and his uncle died in rapid succession, he found himself ascending the throne long before he would have chosen.  The ritual that had always been an abstract concept was now a looming reality, and he didn't like the sound of it at all.





	Before the Coronation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishnet/gifts).



> Written as a treat for Nonconathon 2019.

"That's most of the logistics set for the coronation then," the High Priest said. "All that remains is the issue of that one ritual."

"I'm not doing it," Kethren said. "I refuse."

"Now, now, Your Highness, don't be irrational. This ritual has been carried out since the very first ruler of this line took the throne. Your grandfather, your father, and your uncle all saw it through, and you will as well."

"I will not. I'm not doing the ritual, and you can't make me, Father Robert."

In an instant, the High Priest's gentle expression turned to stone. "You will," he said, "even if I have to tie you up and carry you to the altar myself. The ruler of this land serves as the link between the people, the land, and the gods. If you don't reaffirm that connection, not only is your ascension to the throne incomplete, you risk drawing the gods' ire. Would you put everything your ancestors worked for at risk to avoid one short ritual?"

"It's embarrassing," Kethren said. "Does it really have to take place in front of the entire court?"

"If the ritual is not witnessed, then how can anyone be sure it occurred? The more witnesses, the more people who can carry word back to their holdings of the successful coronation of the crown prince. You are young to be ascending to the throne, and you know you already have your detractors spreading rumors that you are unprepared and unfit to step into your uncle's shoes. Would you give them more fuel to add to the fire, or would you help extinguish the sparks before they can take hold? Furthermore, the connection to the gods in strengthened by numbers. If civil unrest does take root, do you want the gods to question your devotion, or do you want them to come to your aid knowing that you dedicated yourself to them in front of the entire court?"

"It sounds painful. I remember uncle's coronation; you had to help him back to his chambers after the ritual, and he wouldn't let anyone in to see him for an entire day afterward. He held court the day after that, but I saw him limping back to his study after that like it hurt to walk, and it was the only time I ever saw him order cushions for the throne. I'm not as strong as he was. I'm not a fighter who has seen many battles. What if I can't handle the ritual and the entire court sees me fail?"

"That I can help with," the High Priest said. "I won't lie and tell you the ritual is easy; there will be parts that are uncomfortable, and it will push you to your limit, but I will go over all of the steps with you, and I can give you preparations you can do on your own to make it easier to bear."

"Can I have longer to prepare? Everything is happening so fast; I don't think I'll be ready in time."

"The ritual takes place in nine days, on the morning of the third day of the coronation ceremonies. The timing is non-negotiable. Both tradition and the readings of the court astrologer dictate the ritual takes place at that time. Invitations have already been sent out. Now come with me, and we'll go over preparations before your appointment this afternoon with the tailor for another fitting of your coronation robes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For nine days, Kethren had began and ended his day alone in his chambers doing as Father Robert had instructed. It was easier to stretch himself open with his fingers now than it had been initially, but it was no less awkward. Despite his orders that he was not to be disturbed, he was terrified a servant would enter at the wrong moment and see him. There was no way he was going to do this in front of every noble of any standing at all in the court; he'd never be able to look any of them in the eye again.

"Your Highness, are you prepared? It's time we make our way to the temple."

"I'm not going," Kethren said. "Find someone else for your stupid ritual."

His chamber door creaked open.

He rolled over, presenting his back to the door and refusing to acknowledge his visitor.

"Now Kethren, we already went through this. The ritual is absolutely necessary for the well-being of the kingdom, and as the King-to-Be, you are the only one who can do it."

"I can't," Kethren pleaded. "It's too embarrassing; I think I'd die doing it in front of the whole court."

"One can't die of embarrassment," the High Priest countered. "No matter what, the ritual is taking place this morning, even if I have to carry you there myself. You have fifteen seconds to come on your own two feet."

Deciding it was the lesser of two evils, at least for the moment, Kethren slid to the edge of the bed and stepped out, or at least, that was the plan. His knees didn't seem to have received the memo, and they buckled under him, leaving him in an undignified tangle on the floor.

He heard a deep sight behind him, and then he was unceremoniously lifted and tossed over the High Priest's shoulders like a sack of flour.

"Put me down!" Kethren demanded. "I won't do it!"

"I'm afraid the time for such arguments has passed, Your Highness. The audience is already assembling in the temple. It wouldn't do for the king to disappoint his people before he even takes the crown."

"How am I supposed to look any of the court in the eye again after they've seen me like this?"

"Like what? Fulfilling your duty as the divine ruler of the land? They never had any issues with your father, did they? He went through the exact same ritual when he took the throne. It is your duty, and nothing more. Come, we're nearly to the temple. Can you walk to the altar yourself, or do I need to carry you?"

"I can walk," Kethren said. If he was going to be humiliated, he could at least spare himself the humiliation of being carried into the space.

He sounded more confident than he felt. When the High Priest set him down, his knees threatened to buckle again. If it hadn't been for the strong arm around his shoulders, perhaps he would have fallen.

"Go on," Father Robert said. "The altar is just through these doors. It sounds like the full audience is present."

Kethren swallowed, trying to work some moisture back into his dry mouth, and took the last few shaky steps to the door. The low rumble of the crowd echoed through the door, or maybe that was the ringing in his ears. With one last prod from the High Priest, he stumbled through the door at the back of the temple and onto the raised platform that held the altar. The polished marble and gleaming metal blazed in the beams of the rising sun that shone through the narrow windows, casting the rest of the temple into heavy shadows.

"Behold," Father Robert's voice boomed behind him, "we gather here today to witness the Threefold Ritual of the coronation of the crown prince Kethren. May the powers that be bless his ascendance to the throne, and through his rule, may he bring the blessings of the divine down upon this land. Amen."

"Amen," echoed the assembled crowd.

"I, the High Priest Robert, as an agent of the divine, and by the powers vested in me by the divine and by the line of monarchs of this land, do hereby declare the Threefold Ritual begun. Step forward, Crown Prince."

Kethren stepped into the center of the platform and tried not to clutch at the fabric as Father Robert untied his robe and tossed it aside.

"By the powers vested in me, I declare the Crown Prince Kethren the new vessel for the divinity of this land. Let us now begin the ritual washing to purify the vessel." He flicked his wrist, and a long coil of silken rope unspooled from his sleeve. "As the powers of the earth are bound by the divine, so to shall the vessel be, for the vessel is one with the earth."

With another flick of the High Priest's wrist, the rope disappeared from Kethren's view, but scarcely a heartbeat later, he felt it wrapping around his arms. In short order, his arms were bound securely behind him in a complicated series of knots he could only imagine. The High Priest pressed firmly on his shoulder, and he dropped to his knees.

Father Robert lifted a large, silver pitcher. "We purify the vessel with water melted from the pristine snowcap of our highest peak."

The icy water hit Kethren like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath from his lungs. He sputtered and coughed, but it didn't seem to dissuade the High Priest at all.

"We purify the vessel with water from our deepest sea."

Kethren held his breath this time as the water crashed over him, not so cold, but salty enough it stung at his eyes and made his lips tingle.

"We purify the vessel with water from our most sacred lake."

He braced himself, but this time, the water wasn't cold. It was pleasantly warm, like a hot bath, and unlike the previous torrents, it fell over his skin in a steady stream instead of a flood. It felt...almost pleasant. To his horror, he felt his cock twitch between his legs. It was too early for him to be turned on like this, Father Robert hadn't even _done_ anything yet. What would the assembled nobles think of his lack of self control?

If the High Priest noticed, he didn't show it, continuing the ritual without pause. "We purify the vessel with ice as clear as the clarity with which he will rule."

A large chunk of ice pressed to the back of his neck, and he wrenched against the ropes holding him in place. He shivered, skin that had just been warmed by the water breaking out in gooseflesh at the chill. His traitor cock twitched again, growing firmer. Could he close his knees to hide it, or would that only draw more attention to his predicament?

"We purify the vessel with nectar as sweet as the favor we show to those who aid us."

Gloved fingers touched Kethren's lips, and he opened his mouth to receive them. He licked at the honey coating the High Priest's fingers until the sweetness gave way to the musty taste of old leather. The fingers pressed deeper. He started to pull away, but another hand tangled in his hair held him fast as Father Robert shoved two fingers down his throat. He choked and gagged around them, teeth dragging lightly along the leather as they pulled out just enough for him to gasp in a breath before driving back in. His world narrowed to the space directly around him, the ropes biting into his skin as he yanked against them, the hand pulling his hair, the musky scent of incense rising from the High Priest's robes, the restriction on his air.

The High Priest released him without warning. The sudden return of air, and space, was dizzying, and he swayed against his bonds. The High Priest stepped behind him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. There was no way he could hide it anymore; his growing erection jutted out in front of him like a flag, on display for everyone to see.

"We purify the vessel with steel as strong as the swords that protect our land."

Kethren flinched. Was the High Priest going to stab him? He didn't remember that from his preparations.

Something pressed between his ass cheeks, and he gasped for a different reason. Smooth, cold steel pressed against him, burning as it stretched. He tried to pull away, but the High Priest held him in an iron hold. His breath came in gasps and pants as he was stretched unbearably wide. He couldn't do this.

He cried out, and with a final thrust, the widest part of the plug slid popped into him. It was too much--cold steel, hot skin, the sudden release. It pushed him over the edge, and his body orgasmed for all to see.

"Behold!" the High Priest shouted as Kethren's seed spattered across the ground before him. "The King-to-Be has reforged the ties between the monarchy and this place. With this act, the temple has been resanctified, and the ritual may proceed. For the second stage of the ritual, the King-to-Be reaffirms his vows to the divine. I, as the High Priest of this land, shall act as the proxy for the divine power during this act as the bonds are reforged. Come, Kethren, King-to-Be, take your rightful position at the base of the gods!"

As he spoke, the High Priest slashed through the ropes binding Kethren's arms. The sudden release of tension made his shoulders ache, and his fingers tingled as constricted circulation returned. He kept his gaze down--not too far down so that he saw the proof of his release that still covered the floor, but not so far up that he could see out into the mass of onlookers who had witnessed him. His face burned, and he could only hope the lighting hid at least that embarrassment from the rest of the court. It was bad enough to be forced to orgasm in front of the priest. To do so in front of the entire court was humiliating.

"Come, Kethren, King-to-Be," Father Robert repeated. Kethren looked up to where he stood at the base of the altar.

Kethren stood slowly, his legs protesting after so long kneeling on the cold, hard stone. He shuffled to where the High Priest stood. The altar to the gods towered over him; the stone faces of the deities looking down passive and impartial. On the side nearest him were carved the likenesses of every deity worshipped in the land. On the other, the single master deity who ruled over and could adopt the powers and likeness of all others. A marble table stood in front of the far side of the altar, coming to just below the height of the master deity's hip. Kethren bowed his head. He had never seen the towering altar from this close before.

"The King-to-Be raises his arms in supplication, as all of his forefathers have done before him," the Father Robert intoned.

Kethren raised his arms over his head, reaching toward the heavens and the carved marble. With his arms outstretched, he could just barely reach the outstretched hands of two winged deities who hovered over his head. He touched their fingertips, and then he was trapped there as Father Robert tossed silk cords around his forearms and bound them to the stone in intricate knots.

It wasn't until the High Priest began unbuttoning the front of his robes that Kethren remembered the next part of the ritual entailed. "Please, no," he whispered. Was it possible to be both painfully overstimulated and insufficiently prepared at the same time, because that's how he felt.

"The ritual must be completed, Your Highness" the High Priest murmured. "If you fail here, everyone currently watching will question if you are fit to be our next king, or if it is a sign from the gods they should seek another."

"We don't need to stop. Just a small break," he pleaded. "Then we could pick back up again from here. You don't even have to untie me; I'd stay right here the whole time."

"If we stop now, we may as well have never started the ritual to begin with. I'm sorry, Kethren, but this isn't a ritual that allows for pauses. Each part of this ritual builds another step toward the unification of ruler, land, and gods. That's not an easy task. It's why it's the final step of such an involved ritual; the momentum from the success of each previous section builds and carries us through to the end. If you stop now, all of that energy will drain away, and we'll be right back where we were at the start."

Father Robert's fingers probed around Kethren's ass, pressing against too many overly sensitive spots until they finally closed around the base of the plug. He wasn't so tight anymore, but every nerve between his legs was still tingling and oversensitive from his earlier humiliation. The plug slipped free more easily than it had gone in, but the sudden stretch and subsequent emptiness still left Kethren yanking against his bonds as his knees threatened to give.

He made the mistake of glancing back, only to see Father Robert slowly stroking himself into a truly impressive erection. Kethren had never had something so large as that inside him before; even the plug just now had been smaller.

"Please," he begged again. "Not yet. I'm not ready."

"There are many times as ruler where you will not feel ready for the challenges you face," Father Robert murmured against the back of his neck. "A ruler is judged not by his preparedness but by how he carries himself in difficult situations. A good ruler will not show that he doubts himself or has been caught off guard. The ritual will continue. What face you show to your people is up to you."

Kethren rested his head against the rough stone of the altar. With no way out except through, he just needed to make it to the end of the ceremony as quickly as possible. It was bad enough that the entire court would see him taken by the Head Priest; he couldn't show any other weakness before them. Would it be better to resist the Head Priest's ministrations and hold back his orgasm for as long as possible to show his self-control? Or should he urge his body to finish as quickly as possible to show his virility and the favor of the gods? Why hadn't he asked Father Robert more questions well before the ceremony began? Had he really thought it was too awkward? Look at where he was now. Nothing could be more awkward than this!

A light touch brushed between his cheeks, and he flinched before he realized it was too small to be what he feared. It came again, probing deeper and leaving a damp, tacky train in its wake. Father Robert's fingers then, spreading oil across his skin. It shouldn't have been as much of a relief as it was. At least Father Robert didn't seem to want to cause him unnecessary pain.

"Relax, Kethren," he murmured. "Overcome the urge to tense and fight, and it will be easier."

"I'll try," Kethren whispered. "Please, be gentle."

"Through the power of the gods vested in me, I, the High Priest, do forge a new link from the divine to our future king," the High Priest boomed as he buried himself deep inside Kethren in a single thrust.

It burned like fire despite the oil, and the fullness was like nothing Kethren had ever felt before. Despite his best intentions, he cried out and wrenched against his bonds, his skin dragging on the stone where the High Priest pressed against him and pinned him in place.

"Breathe, Kethren," the High Priest murmured in a voice meant only for his ears. "You can take this."

Could he really? He'd never had something so large inside him before. When would he be free? He was already tired and sore, and they were barely halfway through the ritual. He didn't want to be king. He just wanted to be left alone with his books.

Behind him, the High Priest shifted settling into a slow, steady rhythm. Each withdrawal gave Kethren the briefest moment of respite before the next thrust knocked the breath back out of him. His knees buckled, and his shoulders strained as the ropes around his forearms bore his whole weight. Despite everything, his cock began to harden with each thrust. It wasn't pleasant as he had been led to believe intercourse was. It wasn't pleasant, like when he stroked himself to completion in the privacy of his own chambers.

When release finally came, ripped from inside him by the High Priest's powerful thrusts, tears fell from his eyes to mix with the sweat on his cheeks. Were they from relief that the end had finally come, or frustration that it had taken so long? He sagged against the stone as the High Priest withdrew, letting the cool stone soothe his hot skin.

"Behold," Father Robert cried, "the Invocation of the Divine is complete! We now present our future king to the divine and ask that they recognize him and bless our land. Let us pray!"

The murmur of voices swelled around them as Father Robert led the gathered crowd through the prayer. The voices echoed through the stone chamber, making Kethren dizzy as he tried to follow the sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Gentle hands loosened the ropes around his arms and eased them to his sides, supporting him when his legs couldn't bear his weight.

"Can you walk?" Father Robert murmured in his ear?

Kethren shook his head, averting his gaze. He couldn't even stand; the thought of moving was beyond him now.

"There is no shame," Father Robert said as he lifted Kethren in his arm and carried him to the table before the altar. "You have done well, young sir. Your father would have been proud of you today. When this prayer ends, so too will the ceremony. Relax, let it come, and it will be done." He brushed Kethren's sweat-soaked hair away from his face before disappearing to the foot of the table.

Kethren stared at the ceiling, lost in the eddies of sound and swirls of color on the far off ceiling. He lay there, grateful for the cool, solid stone under him until a mechanical, ratcheting noise drew his attention back to where Father Robert stood by the altar statue. Mustering his strength, he raised his head, only to let it fall back with a painful thud.

"No," he said to no one in particular. "Absolutely not." He had never noticed it before, but the towering deity was not a single block of stone but rather an elaborate clockwork mechanism of many pieces. Or, at least its right arm was. The staff it held in its hand was no longer upright like the columns that stood in even lines around the temple. It was now extended in front of the statue, parallel to the table on which Kethren lay and not far above it. As Father Robert tested the mechanism, the statue's arm began to swing back and forth through a small arc, thrusting the staff forward several inches before pulling back again.

Kethren had a good idea of where that staff, which had looked so innocent before, was going to end up, and he wanted no part of it. If only his body were not still refusing his commands, he could flee while Father Robert was occupied. There were nooks and crannies and hidden passageways all throughout the castle where he had hidden from his tutors as a child. He still fit into some of them, and surely Father Robert didn't know _every_ secret of the palace.

Except that to flee, he'd need to be able to run. He could probably wiggle his way off of the altar table now if he tried, but in all likelihood he'd just end up collapsed in a tangle on the ground. At best, he would humiliate himself in front of the entire audience, and the crash would almost certainly draw Father Robert's attention.

As if he had heard the thought, the High Priest turned back, oil dripping from his fingers.

"Please. Stop," Kethren begged to no avail. Gloved fingers spread more oil around his already abused asshole, then grabbed his hips and dragged him closer to the threatening staff. It was no larger than Father Robert's cock, and already glistening with oil, but in the hand of the looming deity, it seemed massive.

Kethren pressed his knees together, as if that could somehow delay the inevitable, but Father Robert simply lifted him by the ankles and impaled him with the staff. The marble was smooth and cool, but unyielding. The High Priest set the mechanism in motion; it moved slowly, but with a power that made Kethren shudder. He was nothing before this statue. It would continue its motion whether he was there or not with no thought for him or what he could endure.

The staff thrust forward deep inside him. He tried to scramble back out of its range, but Father Robert was faster, hooking behind his knees and raising them toward his shoulders until he could gain no purchase or leverage at all.

"Make it stop," Kethren begged. "I can't take it."

"You can, and you will," Father Robert said firmly. Then, his voice softened. "You've done well. Nothing more is required of you save to endure until the mechanism winds down."

"It hurts," Kethren said as the staff jammed yet again into the sensitive spot inside him that made his sore cock stiffen.

"You offer yourself to the gods to show your devotion. Is a few moments of discomfort not a small price to pay for the prosperity of the kingdom?"

"I don't want to be king."

"And yet you will. That choice has already been made. Accept this so that the gods may watch over your reign."

Kethren opened his eyes, staring at the blank, immobile face of the god as it forced another orgasm out of him. He could have cried with relief, except the mechanism showed no signs of slowing. Each new thrust was agony on his overstimulated body.

"How long?" he begged, fighting helplessly against Father Robert's hold.

"Until the mechanism winds down."

He cried, letting the hundreds of voices crescendoing in prayer around him hide his sobs. Somehow, the statue wrung a second orgasm out of him, even though he was certain he had had nothing left to give. Yet even that was not enough for whatever miracle or feat of engineering powered the mechanism as it continued its steady, inexorable march.

He begged to be freed, both to Father Robert and to any deity who might be listening. He would do anything to be spared the agony of another orgasm. Please, release him from this torture.

If there were gods, they didn't seem to be listening. Maybe his perception of time had warped, but it seemed to take longer now for his cock to harden again. He resigned had resigned himself to an eternity of this torture when the third orgasm finally came, but then, the mechanism began to slow. At first, he didn't believe it, convinced it was product of wishful thinking and his desperate mind.

Then, the High Priest called out, "Behold! The gods have accepted the King-to-Be as the new ruler of this land. His reign will carry with it the blessings of the divine. As witnessed by all those present, the ritual is now complete!"

"Amen!" the audience called as one before the space filled with the rustle of cloth and low murmur of casual chatter as they all filed it.

"It is done, Your Highness," Father Robert said softly. "Now rest." He pulled a blanket from somewhere and draped it over Kethren. "I will bring you back to your chambers. The servants were instructed to have a warm bath waiting for you, and then you should rest. Your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the day."


End file.
